


Made To Be

by Llaeyro



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Charlie Weasley, Community: hp_darkarts, Dark fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Incest, Top Bill Weasley, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:32:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llaeyro/pseuds/Llaeyro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie’s world falls apart. His big brother is there to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [HP_DarkArts](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/profile)' My Bloody Valentine Fest.
> 
> [Read on LJ](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/131125.html).

Charlie can’t breathe.

The crowded club is stifling; sweaty bodies buffeting against him, flashing lights and gyrating bodies disorienting him. All of that has drifted into insignificance against the heavy weight in his chest, threatening to drag him down. His vision has all but narrowed to a single point in the room.

Despite only swirling flashes of colour sporadically lighting up the darkened corner, Charlie doesn’t need to look twice. It’s Jack— _his_ Jack, pinning some other muscled, tattooed wanker up against the wall. 

Despite the persistent, anonymous owls, Charlie hadn’t believed it. He hadn’t really expected to find Jack here. Not in a Muggle gay club. Not in any club. He’d only followed the tip off today to finally put the nagging doubt in the back of his mind firmly to rest. Instead, it’s all blown up in his face. Again. Here is Charlie’s lover, his _fiancé_ for fucks sake, all over some guy when he’s supposed to be at his father’s bedside in St Mungo’s. Charlie wonders if Jack’s father’s even ill. He begins to doubt everything he knows about the man, as his future, his world, crumbles to dust once more.

Anger. Charlie can deal with anger. It’s so much easier to put up the emotional walls and take it all out on someone. He can fall apart later.

Charlie sets his jaw and with a deep breath, strides over to the two men sucking face in the corner. With a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder, he yanks them apart.

“What the fuck—” starts the other man, trying to square up to him, but Jack’s hand on the man’s chest prompts him to hold back.

“Charlie…” Jack swallows hard. Charlie doesn’t trust himself to speak. He’s still too close to that emotional edge, teetering on the brink of a breakdown. He keeps his face hard, glaring at Jack, fists clenched at his sides, but he knows his eyes betray him. “We never said we’d be exclusive.” 

Jack can’t seem to quite look at him. It’s probably just as well, because for a moment, Charlie knows it’s all right there on his face. “We never said we wouldn’t be!” Charlie bites back. “This!” Charlie grabs roughly at Jack’s wrist, holding his hand up between their faces, the platinum engagement band glinting red and green from the club lights. “When you accepted this, you agreed we were exclusive! It doesn’t take a fucking Arithmancer to figure it out!”

Jack is trying to twist his wrist out of Charlie’s grasp, but he holds too tight. The muscled man approaches.

“I think you need to cool down.”

“I think you need to stay the fuck out of this.”

“Charlie,” Jack pleads, “You’re hurting me.”

Charlie drops Jack’s wrist and wraps his fist in the front of his shirt. “And what do you think you’re doing to me, hm? I’ve just put down a deposit on a place for us. I’ve paid for our wedding venue. I’ve changed my job, given up my future for you. For _us_. And you’ve been carrying on behind my back, what, the whole time?” Shit, now the tears are falling. “All that I am, I’ve given to you.”

Jack places a hand gently over the fist holding his shirt, finally looking sadly into Charlie’s eyes. “I guess all that you are isn’t enough.”

Fuck anger. Rage. Rage is easy. Rage grabs both fists into Jack’s shirt and hauls him against the wall. Jack is clawing at him, tiptoes scrabbling to keep purchase on the floor. Strong hands are wrapping around his shoulders, yanking him away, throwing him to the ground. He starts to get up, but a knee gets him in the face. Charlie stumbles and a shove to the side sends him back down. The air rushes from his lungs with a searing pain as something hard and rounded comes fast into his stomach. Maybe it’s a boot. People are screaming. The music stops. A hand in his hair yanks his head up. Charlie tries to see who it is but he’s dizzy, maybe he hit his head on the floor when he landed. His face is wet, he tries to sweep it away with his hand but there’s too much of it. Maybe it’s blood. A sharp pain as something else connects with his nose. Maybe it’s a fist. The crunch is deafening, sickening. The hand in his hair lets go and he tries to curl in on himself. There’s still shouting, screaming, all around him. Except now, someone’s arguing back.

Hands wrap around his arm, trying to roll him onto his back. Charlie swipes out at them.

“Hey! Charlie, cut it out, it’s me.” Relief sweeps through him. He reaches out blindly until a strong hand grasps his forearm and yanks him up. He falls into a firm chest, wrapping his arms around the slender waist of his brother for stability. “Fuck, Charlie. Look at the state of you.” Charlie feels some of his hair, plastered to his face with his own blood, being swept out of the way. He can feel Bill’s breath against his ear. “I’ll Apparate us as soon as I can, but you’re going to have to walk a bit. Alright?”

Charlie tries to nod, but his head just sort of flops from side to side. He hopes Bill gets the gesture. He probably does, as he tries to get going but as soon as Charlie tries to put weight on his left ankle, he buckles. Bill barely manages to catch him. With a lot of grunting and a few swears, Bill is all around him, he’s dragged forward and soon the cool night air hits him.

Charlie’s thoughts are reeling behind the thrumming and stabbing of pain in his face, his ribs, his ankle. He wonders where he went wrong with Jack. He wonders why his boyfriends always cheat on him. Time, after time, after time. Charlie wasn’t even sure how many it had been now. Was it the men he picked, or was it him? Why wasn’t he ever enough for anyone?

He had been so sure things would be different with Jack. He’d thought things were already different, hence the flat and the ring, but he’d been wrong. So, so wrong. 

He’ll never be good enough.

He will die alone.

The pull of apparition jars his aching limbs and he drops to his knees as soon as they land, retching into the grass. He feels magic wash over him and the stickiness all over his face disappears. Charlie blinks a few times. The grass below him is clean too. He looks up at Bill.

The warm light from the house sets a warm glow over one side of him, the other side painted with faint highlights from the moon hanging off to the side. The light wind whips his hair about his shoulders. He looks broad. He looks strong. He looks down at Charlie with sadness and kindness in his eyes.

“Come on, let’s get you sorted out properly.” He reaches down and pulls Charlie up once more, all but carrying him into the bungalow.

He is led through the house and, as directed, sits down on the end of Bill’s bed. With a wave of Bill’s wand, Charlie is left in just his white boxers. It isn’t cold, but he shivers anyway.

“Fuck, Charlie,” Bill sighs, “They really did a number on you. Lay back, let me see.”

With a lot of wincing and a few groans, Charlie complies. Charlie vaguely notices how dirty his arms and stomach are. His top must have rode up when he was on the floor of the club. The bed is comfy, and Charlie lets his head sink into the pillow, his eyes drifting closed. His left eye is starting to puff up, so closed is much better.

The warm, wet touch of the flannel on his good side makes Charlie jump. Straight away Bill’s other hand comes to his face, whispering soothingly as he gently cleans his brother.

“Why don’t you just use magic?” Charlie mumbles. He isn’t really complaining, just wondering.

“Because this feels better,” he replies quietly, “I want you to feel taken care of.”

“Bill...” Charlie groans. He can sense them heading into dangerous territory again. He thought Bill had given up on him years ago.

“No, Charlie. You _do_ deserve to be taken care of. It’s about time someone did…”

The bite to Bill’s words sooth the knot in Charlie’s chest, even if he doesn’t quite believe them. The warmth from the cloth seeps into his muscles. He hears the flannel dropped into water, probably a bowl on the bedside table or something. A soft towel runs over him now. Gentle, yet thorough.

“Let’s see what the damage is, then. Top or bottom?”

“Bottom.” Charlie has sunk into a haze of thought where the throbbing in his skull is actually quite welcome. It scares off the thoughts that he will suffer crushing loneliness for the rest of his life. He wants to hold on to that for a bit longer.

Bill’s fingers and wand prod gingerly at his ankle. His fingertips are cool against the swollen muscles. “You’re lucky, it’s just a small fracture.” He mutters a few spells, running his fingers over the area as he checks his work. “That should feel alright once the swelling goes down.” His large hands smooth up Charlie’s legs, stopping now and then to rub in a balm. Charlie wasn’t aware of those bruises. With his ankle fixed, his nose and side are fighting for all the attention.

Charlie groans and tries to pull away when Bill’s hands ghost against his ribs. He casts a diagnostic spell.

“It’s just a bruise,” he announces with a relieved sigh. “Way you were going on, I thought you’d cracked a rib and we’d have to get you up St Mungo’s. For a toned and tattooed dragonologist, you can’t half be a baby sometimes.”

Charlie huffed a half-laugh, wincing at the pain in his side. “As if you’d take a beating like that and come out any better.” Bill doesn’t reply, he just slowly works the salve across Charlie’s ribs. It smells of juniper. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

A beat, then: “Nope.”

“Did you see Jack?”

“Yup.”

“So you know what happened.”

Bill sighed, the bed shifting as he moved. When he spoke, he was nearer Charlie’s head. “Pretty much. It’s near enough the same old story every time with you.”

Charlie sighed.

“He gave me your ring back,” Bill said softly. Pressure built up in Charlie’s temples. He could feel the threatening prickle of tears behind his eyelids.

The bed dipped and Bill’s warmth settled over his newly healed middle. The flannel was back, dabbing lightly at his face. Steady huffs of air tickled the wet skin. Charlie knew it must be Bill’s breath. Bill must be that close.

“You don’t need him. You don’t need any of them.”

A sob escapes Charlie as fat tears start to roll down his face. He brings his arms up to circle his big brother.

With a sharp pain, his nose is reset. Magic prickles around his eye and his lower lip as they slowly deflate. Charlie takes a few careful blinks before looking up at Bill.

His breath catches in his throat. 

Bill’s gorgeous. 

His long hair is swept back behind one ear, flowing over the opposite shoulder, exposing his earring and a long, pale stretch of neck and—well, fuck. 

Bill’s topless.

Charlie’s laying on Bill’s bed in his pants, with his half-naked brother on top of him.

“They don’t deserve you, Charlie,” Bill frowns down at him, “No one does.”

Charlie tries to clear his throat before he speaks, but his mouth has gone dry. “Except you.”

It isn’t quite a question, because Charlie feels he’s already learnt the answer the hard way. He has fought against this for so, so many years. Again and again, he has refused his brother because—well, he’s his _brother_.

His fantastically hot, gay brother.

But tonight, after the events of the past few years, he seems so much more than that. He’s the one man who’s stood by Charlie. The one man who loves him and wants him, as is. Perhaps even, the one man for whom Charlie can be enough.

With shaking hands, Charlie reaches to the back of Bill’s neck, pulling him down. His eyes drift closed, and Bill’s lips are soft and perfect against his. A twitch against his leg makes Charlie gasp and Bill’s tongue glides into his mouth. The kiss turns hungry, Charlie is rutting up into his brother and nothing has ever felt this way; not with Jack, not with Marinus, or Gary or anyone. Ever.

Nothing has ever felt so right.

So perfect.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Bill groans in appreciation, watching his brother jerk his own cock while he fucks himself enthusiastically on Bill’s. His hands drift up from Charlie’s waist, dancing over the dragon tattoo on his chest and lightly pinch his nipples. Charlie moans and arches, throwing his head back as he bounces harder and faster on Bill’s cock.

He looks so right like this. Wanton, needy, desperate slut. ‘ _Mine_.’

Oh yes, Charlie is worth it. Worth the years of planning. Worth the hours spent ‘persuading’ some, and money spent persuading others. ‘Jack’ had been a real find. Finally, someone willing to see it right through—for the right price, of course. At long last, everything is how it should be. Perfect.

Charlie was made for him, after all.

He had just needed a little help to realise it.

_Fin_


End file.
